Lonesome Girl
by Kelsey
Summary: Missing scene between "Tabula Rasa" and "Smashed." Tara and Dawn reconcile.


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Lonesome Girl

by

Kelsey

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Disclaimer: Not mine. Do you really think I'd have killed Tara?

Author's Note: Missing scene between 'Tabula Rasa' and 'Smashed' where Dawn and Tara reconcile.

Summary: Tara moves out of the Summers' home and everything changes.

Rating: G

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There's a dorm room waiting for her at the college, which she supposes isn't very surprising, considering the amount of people who disappear during a given week in Sunnydale. The college has always had trouble keeping the dorms full enough so that the students don't worry, and are glad to give Tara a room, even on a single day's notice.

Xander drops her and her things off outside the door and helps her carry them upstairs. He cracks a few jokes, but is mostly quiet and even his humor seems serious. When the last box has been set down inside her room, Tara turns and thanks him softly, keeping her eyes down. She's never been terribly comfortable with men, and though she likes Xander, she really does, she can't just turn off her feelings.

He doesn't seem bothered, and extends an arms to put his hand on her shoulder. When she tips her head up to meet his eyes, the brown depths staring back at her are void of their usual twinkle. "We're all here for you, Tara," He says. Nothing to preface it with, no false promises that everything will be alright, just an assurance that she isn't alone.

"T-thanks." Tara hasn't stuttered in a while, but she's stressed out and kind of uncomfortable here. It's been a long time since she's had a room to herself-- a year at least since she hasn't shared with Willow.

He takes his hand away, but doesn't break the eye contact. "All of us. Buffy, me, Dawn, even Anya if you want to risk that." He cracks a small smile. "Really, she can be... overwhelming, but she always has a unique perspective on things."

Tara nods. She knows that Anya is remarkably insightful-- and though she does sometimes blurt things out that make other people uncomfortable, she's never intentionally unkind. She just doesn't understand the inner workings of human society, and doesn't have any particular desire to learn about it. Tara understands-- making a persona for yourself because you're not the way society wants is a constant drain. Speaking with Anya can be like a breath of fresh air.

"And Dawn will come around. She's just hurt, Tara."

Tara nods again, but this time averts her eyes. She knows Dawn is only retreating into her shell, that's what she does when she's hurt. She's lost so many people-- it's only natural. Dawn isn't really angry with her, but she wishes that she didn't have to deal with the teenager's feelings, too. And the thought makes her feels selfish, because, hey, it was her who made the effort to get close to Dawn this summer, and now she's pulled away, however without malice the action was. "I know."

Xander shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looks away too, slumping. "Well... I'm gonna go now, okay?" She nods and moves further into her doorway. He inclines his head to her and walks away, stopping after a few feet. "Remember what I said?"

"I will."

He grins. "Good."

Tara returns to her reality as he starts down the stairs at the end of the hall, and finds the dorm room exactly as she expected it-- not exactly homey and friendly. There are no sheets on the bed, no paper on the desk, and the walls are bright white, like they've just been painted. No doubt they have. _There's probably not a dorm in Sunnydale where some sort of demon or human blood hasn't been spilled, _Tara muses.

The witch starts to go through her things, looking for the bedsheets, but she's exhausted, and every other move makes her eyelids want to fall shut. Finally, she finds her alarm clock and her magickal things, what she figures are the bare essentials for the night, and closes the boxes again.

Putting the alarm clock on the bedside table, she sets it carefully so that she won't miss her early morning class. She doesn't want to go, but the alternative is probably sitting in the barren room she's in right now, thinking about where she could be. Like, asleep in Willow's arms in a comfortable bed in a house full of people who love her. So she votes to go to the class.

The magickal materials she picks up and places on the desk. Taking what she needs, she draws a line of salt across the window sill, careful that it touches both edges, and then does the same on the floor across the doorway. Sitting down, she lights a candle and focuses on it, drawing magic to her in brilliant waves of energy. "Hecate, hear my plea," she intones softly. "Let none with ill will in their hearts enter this sacred space. I make this a place of good and light, and none shall enter who wear black on their souls."

There's no visible reaction, but a little flicker of energy through her body lets Tara know the spell is working, and she sighs, relaxing in her safety. "Return to your children, Goddess Hecate. Blessed Be." She picks up the candle and replaces it with the rest of her things, then kicks off her boots and collapses on the bed, ignoring the lack of sheets and pillows, throwing the one blanket she did manage to find over her body. She falls asleep almost as soon as her head hits the mattress.

Tara awakens to the bleeping on her alarm clock, insistent that she get up and face the day, despite the fact that the day hasn't quite arisen with her yet. She groans and wonders for a moment why she signed up to a seven-thirty class, then remembers that most days, she likes the morning. Today is not going to be one of them, she can feel it.

Sleeping with her hair in yesterday's elaborate do has made her scalp ache, but she was too tired to even think about taking it out last night. Now, she picks at tiny bands with exhausted fingers and wishes she hadn't done this. No look is worth this much pain trying to undo it.

Finally, the last band falls free, and she runs her brush quickly through her long blond locks. The image of herself in the mirror she fishes out of her purse isn't too hideous-- sleepy and with slight bags under her eyes, but her hair is only slightly kinked and she doesn't look ready to cry, anymore.

The knock on her door is unexpected-- she didn't think she knew anyone here. Maybe it's Buffy or Xander calling, but she doubts it. They both saw her last night, and besides, neither of them would be up this early if there isn't an apocalypse on the way. She hopes there isn't an apocalypse on the way.

The fidgeting, lanky form that greets her when she opens the door is unexpected. "Dawn?"

The teenager looks sheepish and more than a little contrite. "I'm sorry," she blurts out, then looks more sheepish. "I needed to say that. Cause, what I did last night? Way stupid." She stares at the floor.

Tara isn't sure what to say, but standing around saying nothing probably isn't the best answer. She opens the door wider and lets the teenager in. "It's okay. You were hurt, and you closed down." She pauses. "You've seen a lot of pain in the last year, Dawn. It's only natural. To protect yourself, you know."

Dawn looks around the room before returning her gaze to Tara. "I know. But I hurt you, I know I did, so don't bother denying it, and I'm sorry."

Tara smiles. "It's okay. Really. I promise I'm not mad."

Dawn smiles. "Thanks." With a keen eye, she looks over the room quickly. "Want some help unpacking?"

Tara looks at her watch. "Don't you have to be at school?"

"Teacher work day."

"Then why are you up so early?" Tara is well aware that the teenager is usually unapproachable anytime before nine.

"I knew you had an early class. And I wasn't sure you'd come back here all day, and I couldn't come over tonight, cause you know, _dark_, so..."

Tara nods, deciding that she's already way to late to go to her class anyway. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Dawn's eyes light up. "Really? Cool!" She acts like it's a present to be allowed to spend time with Tara, and the witch likes that, as selfish as it might be. She likes to be needed, she puts herself in the position to be the mother-figure purposefully, but that doesn't mean she doesn't like it when people enjoy her company.

Tara smiles in return. "I have a class this afternoon, but I'm free until then. So, if you want to help me find the sheets for the bed, we can start there."

Dawn grins. "Cool. I'll look in this box, and you can take that one?" They go to work sorting through piles of stuff, and actually end up setting up the alter before they ever find the sheets, but they don't mind. Conversation is kept low-key, movies and boys Dawn likes and a few stories that Tara feels comfortable sharing from her own experience as a fifteen-year-old. She doesn't have many, but there are some rare instances that don't bring up instant grief, and she speaks about them willingly enough.

Tara's things are almost all in place by the time lunch rolls around. Dawn calls Buffy and asks her to pick her up in an hour-- they will have eaten by then, and Tara has to go to a class. Buffy agrees, and they spend lunch light-heartedly arguing about the virtues of junk food versus the virtues of health food. Tara calls Dawn's argument "unsupported," and Dawn tells Tara that she has support, but if Tara won't listen to it, it doesn't count, and then Tara pretends to force Dawn into eating a bite of her yogurt, after which the teen makes a big presentation about gulping her water and makes faces.

By the time Buffy comes and Tara's class starts, things don't look so horrible anymore. Life without Willow is going to be hell, she knows that, but Dawn doesn't hate her, and Xander promised he and Buffy would be there to talk, and the sun is up, and there are sheets on her bed, and later, she's going to cry until she can't stop, but right now, the memories of Dawn's mock disgusted-faces are sustaining her, and the light of the day is soaking into her, and she thinks she might actually make to night before that happens.

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